Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) (13 page)

“Good,” Martha said.

Jane hoped a mile would be the closest hostile Indians ever got to her sweet girls.

Their first evening on the trail passed quickly. After Stephen got Jane’s cook fire going and helped her to start the fresh meat to roasting, Sam opened the crate of Kentucky rifles, giving one to each of the men and one to Jane. The .40 caliber weapons cost him more than two year’s salary, but they would be well worth the expense. The slender rifles were not only lightweight and accurate they were quick to load. Sam said he could reload his in 12 seconds while running, and that after some practice they would be able to do so as well.

Stephen stroked the smooth maple stock and admired its graceful lines and skillfully made iron accoutrements, including a distinctive patch box in the stock. He pointed the weapon towards the distant hills, pleased with the good sights. His first new rifle, he would treasure it. A rifle like this could mean the difference between life and death or between a full belly and starving.

For target practice, Sam nailed a white feed sack to a tree 100 yards from camp. By the time Jane had supper nearly ready, the sack hung in shreds.

“Let Jane try,” Stephen suggested.

“That would na be fair,” Bear said, “there’s na but a wee bit of threads left to shoot at.”

“Give me that rifle,” Jane demanded, clearly challenged by Bear’s comment.

With Stephen’s help, Jane loaded her new weapon. She tucked it securely into her shoulder, took aim, and fired. What remained of the feed sack fell to the ground.

“Those green eyes aren’t just beautiful, they’re as sharp as a hawk’s,” Stephen bragged.

“I made it easy on all of you,” Sam said. “Next camp, I’ll put it out 150 yards.”

By sundown, Sam’s weather prediction came true. Thunder rolled in a long parade, as if the storm played hundreds of drums and cymbals as it marched across the countryside. Wind gusts picked up and large cold drops of rain started to slap their faces.

Jane quickly got the girls and Little John under cover inside the wagon, and then started collecting her cooking utensils.

Stephen gathered up their new rifles and stored them away along with anything else that could blow away. Before he and Jane climbed inside too, he swung her around into the circle of his arms. Putting his hand to the back of her neck, he drew her lips to his and gently covered her mouth. She returned the kiss with abandon, letting the rain patter down on them both. Then he forced himself to step back and help her into the wagon.

As he climbed up behind Jane, William and John crawled under the wagon for their shelter.

Sam and Bear took cover under shelters they had made earlier from tree limbs and hides they had placed on high ground.

A lightning bolt cracked overhead. Polly squealed and Amy pressed her tiny hands to her ears. Little John clung to Stephen’s damp wool jacket. Martha just looked annoyed at being stuck in the wagon for the rest of the evening.

“Don’t worry, lightning is just the Almighty’s way of reminding us how powerful He can be,” Jane said, wrapping her arms around both Polly and Amy.

“He must be fierce,” Little John said. “I wouldn’t want to make him mad.”

“Many grown men aren’t smart enough to realize that,” Stephen said.

CHAPTER 14

T
he next morning Jane made a brief note in her journal.
The storm last night passed quickly, but left the ground wet, just enough to make everything muddy. Stephen is so full of energy and hope. He inspires us all. I pray that God will give him the strength he will need for this journey, and that He will give us all strength. I fear we will need it
.

“We’ve made good progress today, nearly ten miles. Tomorrow, we should make the Merrimack River before dark. I’ll rest easier once we’ve crossed it,” Sam quietly told Stephen and Bear as they rode.

“I won’t rest easy until Bomazeen is dead,” Stephen replied.

“Aye,” Bear agreed. “The demon is still within strikin’ distance. We’d be easy to track. We’re leavin’ a trail an Indian bairn could follow.”

“Let’s make camp before it gets dark,” Sam said. “We’re more vulnerable at night so we’ll need to hunt some food and be back before sundown.”

“Aye. I’m as hungry as big Camel here,” Bear said.

“So am I,” John said and he and William joined them.

Stephen hoped they could find some turkey or wild hog. Hunger pangs rumbled in his stomach too.

“Little John and I will fish upstream while you two hunt,” John said.

Bear and Sam rode off. They would ride some distance away before dismounting and hunting the rest of the way on foot.

Stephen turned to William. “You’re looking a little stiff, brother.” While William hadn’t complained, he suspected that after two straight days on horseback, William felt like he did—saddle-sore in some very private places.

“I’m fine,” William growled.

“There’s no shame in admitting it. We’re not used to riding all day like Sam and Bear. Why don’t you keep a watch out and gather up firewood. I’ll get these horses hobbled so they can graze some. Looks like some good grass over there,” Stephen said, pointing to a meadow not far off.

“Deal,” William said.

Stephen removed George’s saddle, and began brushing the stallion’s broad back, where the horse’s black hair was wet and matted from the day’s ride. He enjoyed the grooming as much as George did. There was something pure and earthy about the salty aroma of the horse’s sweat and the brushing seemed to help them both relax after a long ride. When he was done, he stroked George’s long neck and hindquarters. The powerfully built stallion had nearly perfect conformation and he counted himself lucky to own such an exceptional mount.

He loved the horse like a dear friend. Riding George was far more than a means of transportation—it made him feel stronger and more alive—as if the strength of the stallion’s big heart and powerful muscles passed through to him every time he rode. Of all God’s creatures, he thought the horse most worthy of mans’ admiration and devotion. And George received ample amounts of both.

“I’m going to the creek to wash the dust off my face and hair. I’ll get some water for coffee and dinner too,” Jane said.

Stephen looked up and judged the distance to the creek. It was less than 50 yards away. “All right. But stay alert and take your rifle.”

William stacked the firewood, then used steel and flint to ignite the leaves and twigs he’d placed at their base. “You should shortly have enough heat to cook if you have a mind to make some of your famous biscuits in your Dutch oven,” he said with a grin.

“Thank you,” Jane said, “I just need to check on the children and freshen up first.”

William opened his bedroll and stretched out his long legs.

The children were running in circles around the wagon, chasing each other and squealing happily, letting off pent up energy from being confined all day.

Jane loaded her rifle, grabbed her soap and pails, then headed down the slope. Tall Cypress trees lined the bank, their branches and leaves rustling like huge wind chimes in the steady light wind. The creek, swollen from spring rains, flowed noisily. The churning water formed white foam around colorful boulders and rocks. Jane wished it were summer and she could disrobe and sit on the rocks, letting warm water swirl around her naked body.

Winding her way around some large boulders, she made a path down to the river bank. She removed her cloak and laid it and her bucket on the rocks, and then unbuttoned the bodice of her gown, pulling it down. With only her shift left to cover her breasts, the cool gentle breeze made her shiver and raised goose bumps on her bare skin. As she bent down to the water’s edge, she breathed in the clean smell of the water.

Jane splashed her face with the clear water before dunking her head. Shivering, the chilly water did not feel pleasant, but it felt far better than the dirt and grime of the trail. After dragging the bar of soap through her wet hair, she started scrubbing and didn’t stop until she’d done a thorough job. She closed her eyes, dipped her head in the creek again, and vigorously swirled her hair through the cold water.

Then she felt only the cold of terror. Her entire body shuddered in fear when large strong hands pressed against her mouth and held her head down in the water. Jane struggled to raise her head, eyes wide under the water, but she couldn’t. She needed to breathe! What was happening? Someone was trying to drown her! Then the man violently jerked her up by her hair. She stumbled and sucked in a breath, choking on water, as a man pulled her backwards. She tried to wrench away, but couldn’t.

“Make one sound and I’ll gut you like a fish,” a raspy voice growled as he pressed an icy blade of steel against her throat, “then I’ll steal your oldest daughter instead.”

She went limp with fright and ceased to struggle, afraid he would make good on this threat.

He hauled her backwards, dragging her between the boulders, his hand still clamped tightly across her mouth. Her dripping hair covered her eyes and she could not see. She shook her head slightly
to clear the hair and water out of her eyes. Her assailant pushed her toward a horse hidden in a copse of nearby trees.

Panic squeezed her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
Dear Lord, send Stephen to her aid
.

With his long blade pressed against her stomach, he hoisted her into the saddle as if she were a sack of grain and climbed up behind her. The fabric of her gown split open under the knife and she felt cold steel scraping against her bare skin. She didn’t dare move or scream.

He nudged the horse and they took off slowly, quietly following two mounted braves waiting nearby. Soon, the horses hurtled forward, then broke into a gallop. It was then that she realized Indians were stealing her.

Oh God, this can’t be happening.

Then she knew. She recognized his smell. Bomazeen’s sharp stench was something she’d never forget, but she could not bring herself to look at his chilling face. She peered down at the knife instead, still held tightly against her stomach. The sight of the blade and the scalps hanging from his belt made her want to retch.

She couldn’t let this venomous snake have her, but she couldn’t jump off without the knife slicing her belly or leg open. The risk was too great.

Bomazeen, now flanked by the two braves, crossed a large meadow, loping the horse through the tall grass. Within seconds, they would be in the cover of timber again and she feared she would be forever lost to her husband, to her girls, to their life.

Stephen, help me
.